


Parallax

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/F, F/M, Inspired by Shakespere, M/M, So this is gonna be painful
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 14:29:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate universe for Cardverse inspired by 'Macbeth' and 'Timon of Athens.' The peace between the Club and Spade Kingdom was bought with no small amount of blood. Can even peace not quell a greedy man's thirst?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The magician shuffles the deck swiftly, scarcely even thinking. The cards are like extensions of each finger, but the deck seems to cry out with its flight from hand to hand, a sound like that of ripping cloth tearing through the air as the decorated paper deck screams for mercy. 

“Since you're a particularly special friend,” the magician says in that usual bored manner, slamming the deck into his left hand and cupping it with both hands as if the paper itself will escape him. "I will show you my best trick.”

The cards relax in his hand. Only now do I see how mangled they are, some stitched together, the sides worn and tattered.

“You're a writer if I remember correctly…” he mumbles, dealing the deck into four piles. He then quickly whips out a map and spreads out the cards over it. They're all in order by suit, however the Ace is next to the Jack and some of the cards seem to be more abused than others. The 10 of Clubs has abrasions all along the upper third, close to the neck, and the two Jokers are torn in half, then sewn to the bottom of a Jack of Clubs. The Queen of Clubs was dotted with red blood. The faces were quite altered as well. It looked as if the deck was once quite noble, but now in age had become decayed.

“They're strange.” I noted, keeping my eyes away from his deadly stare.

“The cards? Hah. Obviously. I made them.”

“Why did you deface—”

“It will all be clear in time. Now hush up, will you? I'm trying to show you my trick.”

“This is the age-old story of the four nations.” Red eyes, glinting in the candlelight, shred me with their violent intensity. “Once upon a time…”


	2. Act I, Scene i

The warm water came up to the brim of the tub, not yet fully sloshed out by Alfred's squirming and shaking as his servant's nimble fingers massaged his neck. Alfred was horribly ticklish, making him seem quite the fool at times. The smell of mint was clear to him as soap was now being worked through his fine strands of hair.

The Knight sat with his back turned to the washtub behind him, occupying a small stool in the steamy and oppressively hot room. The prodigious man was not wearing his armour, in casual and simple clothes. He rested his fair face on one hand with a cautious smile playing across his lips as he indulged in his own fleeting, dreamy serenity. Even if the room was sweltering and he felt as if every breath of steam clogged his lungs, it made no difference. He could talk as he pleased in this way.

"Your Majesty, I have news from the field of battle, and also the court of sycophants." he said with a grin, gently sighing. "The court of sniveling barons, lords, countesses, and ladies would like to alert you that there will be a ball approaching, and that you best join them. Apparently you were well missed at the previous one, although I completely support your decision to not attend. Even the King himself, blessed be his name, thought it was a pointless trifle. I would advise you not to go. I am no Ace though, your Majesty, and Heaven knows that Roderich is far more polite than I."

The splashing of water came first in reply, then a small chuckle from the servant with the short black hair and blank brown eyes. "You are so tactful with them. If they ever heard you say any of that they may be so shocked they'd drop their fine chalices and stain their silken shoes with wine." Alfred muses as he allows his head to fall back, rolling his bright eyes.

"It would serve them right. Those at the superior level must be toned down. I cannot standthem. They lie to you and to his Majesty to advance their own positions. Unforgivable." Arthur chose his words carefully. He didn't want to come off as too harsh or too bold. It wouldn't bode well. "But I must be tactful to not embarrass you, your Majesty. I wouldn't be able to stand it if I stained your honour."

"Do I really have to attend, Arthur? I know Roderich will say yes but he'd have me in dress and crown every day if he had his way. What is the ball all about anyway? Talking about this war like we actually know what we are doing anymore?" Alfred looked at Arthur's back, then noticing that he wore a shirt Alfred loved on him, one of a deep, navy hue adorned by a simple silver trimming. It held a small Club emblem, over which was emblazoned the number ten.

"Yes, the ball is something along those lines." Arthur responded with just as much enthusiasm. "It also includes something about being the most perfect Queen and letting the others bring painful subjects to light. Your dear mother included, may God's grace be with her." The last statement he said more quietly. He would not have Alfred being upset.

Alfred leaned against the rim of the tub, his arms folded along the side and his chin resting on his arms. "I will never be able to be as my mother was. She could silence a room with the sounds of her steps, as Ivan would say." No matter how little he knew his mother before she passed, it would not affect how much he would miss her. His adoptive mother was a fine woman— no, she was exemplar, beautiful in every way. Elisabetha was fabled now, and Alfred had reason to feel important because of her notoriety. The sordid lies about her passing and the nobles' dissatisfaction with his performance as her replacement only tore the wound open eyes briefly sought the floor to look over the carefully crafted tiles, another display of extravagance he was never fond of.

Kiku placed a finger under Alfred's chin and guided his head back to wash out the soap, the water running over his head and Alfred kicked a bit. "You make such a mess, your Majesty." Kiku could feel the water around his toes. He usually took off his shoes before bathing Alfred so they would not be kind this Queen was, Arthur had always thought, taking pity on a poor near-blinded inferior and turning him into a personal servant and a middle. Kiku Honda could laugh and smile again, and was most certainly the most loyal middle a Queen could ever ask for. Alfred Jones should have been thankful for that. Arthur Kirkland was simply thankful for Alfred Jones.

Damnit, donotbesoweak.

He shook his head of the thoughts and moved on.

"Al— Sir, I beg your pardon. I hope not to offend you with my banter. At any rate, the news from the field... I feel as though we are beating the damnèd Spades back. That Jack of theirs is fierce and a wonderful fighter. He has the best form of any one I have seen in my life. Sir Berwald would appear to be his only rival, but otherwise he is unparalleled! It's astounding. I must train more for the next time I chance upon him."

"It is just us three, you can say whatever you want. After all this time do you still need to be formal with me?" Alfred was holding out a foot, his leg emerging from the water, as Kiku took it and began using a pumice stone. The shoes he wore and the hot, humid air did nightmares to his skin. "—What was his name, Yao Wang? I have heard much about him. Our people are frightened, there are some flyers posted around with demonized caricatures of him. I picked one up actually, it's on my bureau if you'd care to look at it."

"I must be formal, your highness." He turned his head to cast a benevolent and kind glance on Alfred, that small smile still screwed to the sticking place. "Yes. Yao Wang. I have seen the caricatures. They do him no justice. You should have seen him, your Majesty. He was agile and strong. I wish to be just as astonishingly strong and brave one day. I want to be a match, and I want to win this war."

"And that is why you are my favorite knight. You'd meet any end for this kingdom, wouldn't you?" Alfred flexed his toes as Kiku scrubbed away at his feet, peeling away the dead skin to give way to softer layers. "Were you thinking of practicing before nightfall?" Alfred hoped not, for then he could possibly stay out with him and watch. He had to meet up with Ivan so he could give the man his weekly check up on the citizens and their needs.

"I would do anything for you, Majesty. This kingdom too, but if I was told to sacrifice regardless of the kingdom by you, I would do it in a heartbeat." Arthur replied tersely, seriousness returning and the smile fading, but his manner was quick to change. He heard the falling tone in Alfred's voice, and kept his voice soft when he spoke. "If you would like to watch, I would be both gladdened and honoured, your Majesty. You must get your report done first, however. Ivan will be cross otherwise." With that, he got up, rising to full height. He collected his sword and cloak, set the door just slightly ajar, and bowed to Alfred. "I must set the training ground for later. Please excuse me, Highness, and I shall see you later."

Alfred waited until Kiku had reached over for a towel and held it to cover the monarch's body from Arthur as he stood. The Queen wrapped the corners tightly around himself with unsteady fingers. His Knight exited the chamber and closed the door with a small click, sighing and walking with purpose towards his first destination, namely the War Room. He had to talk to the King. Times were strange; Arthur had seen for the first time in his life the inhabitants of the Land of the Dead, and promised a full report on this oddity.

The click of the door was lost on Alfred as his servant led him to a large vanity where he sat on a plush bench, and there youth selfishly pondered on his own blessings in this mortal coil.


	3. Act I, Scene ii

Arthur walked briskly, moving towards the War Room with a determined expression. He was told to go check on Alfred earlier by the King, but he knew that this could not be delayed— his burden of purpose was too immense for delay. Arthur rapped his knuckles on the door and called out the code word, then letting himself in after the click of the lock. Only Roderich, Berwald, and Ivan were present. He could feel the stony glances of the Ace and Jack as he walked in, kneeling to the king and lowering his head.

"Sirs, Your Majesty." Arthur said coolly as he raised himself up, nodding to all of them. "I'm sorry to interrupt. This information is of dire importance, and I beg you to forgive me for my intrusion." Ace Roderich took his seat, watching the King closely next to his stoic superior, Berwald.

"Go on." Ivan said with a smile, low and rumbling voice sucked up by the soundproofed walls of the study.

"Sir, it is about the Land of the Dead. The two exiles... They inhabit the Land of the Dead, were you aware?"

The King could feel his blood freeze in his veins. A chill went up the Ace's spine, and even the Jack bore a look of some surprise. The sheer incredulity made Berwald start— his mentor, his teacher, alive? But he saw that man's beheading, the blood dripping from the chopping block into a basin, and Maria crying tears of hatred as they bagged the body. She had disappeared with it the very next day. They took her for dead.

The Ace started from his seat. "They couldn't be! That's impossible! That man was dead! Are you sure you did not encounter just one, but two?"

"Absolutely sure, Ace Roderich. I would not lie, especially not before His Majesty." Arthur countered darkly.

"Sir Kirkland, these are grave tidings, if true." The King sank back in his chair, his pale brow furrowed and crinkled hands folded.

"What action are we taking?" the sombre Jack inquired, cold blue eyes scanning over the others' expressions. "We cannot invade the Land of the Dead. It is neutral. We cannot remove the two miscreants."

The King rose from his chair, dwarfing all of the others in the room and walked to the door to alert the armored guard. "Nine." Ivan unceremoniously addressed the guard to his right, who immediately snapped to attention and brought his spear to his side. "Yes your Highness?"

"Bring me my Queen. I need his input. Make sure he leaves his Middle in his room." Ivan's words were clipped and short, though not rude. He did not need any of his worry seeping into his ranks of men. "Yes King Braginskij." The man shuffled off, another Nine coming from seemingly nowhere and filling the spot as Ivan closed the door, murmuring, "We shall see what Lapushka thinks."

As he waited and the officials spoke to relieve their agitation, Ivan played with a letter sealed with the mark of Spades. This conversation was sure to make the Queen uncomfortable; Ivan was well aware of the boy's feelings on the albino. Perhaps giving the young man something to toy with as they speak would stifle his tantrum.

» «

Alfred's hair stuck to his head as Kiku began drying it with a soft towel faintly infused with mint.

Yao Wang.

Even the name would send Alfred into loops. He had seen the man in person at various parties— and was able to speak to him even fewer times —but the man had a hold on him.

The Jack of Spades was incredibly dignified, and there was never a moment where one felt he was unsure or doubted his skill. His body was not bulky like some of the soldiers of Clubs; it was not at all for show. His slender arms and legs were wrapped in scars won in various exchanges, some light and some more heavy— but none of them could detract from his beauty. They would barely show under that alluring enemy's loose sleeves; Alfred would always just want to push them up and feel every one.

They mailed each other often. The letters were always read by Ivan first as a part of their agreement; the king wanted to be sure that there was no trickery going on. In all of the Kingdom of Clubs, only the messenger, Ivan, Alfred's Middle, and Alfred himself knew of the letters. Through them Alfred learned of Yao, his fighting skills and the title he had gained, but also his family and the culture of his people, a minority in the Spades kingdom. It was safe to say he was completely consumed by the affection he felt.

Kiku finished drying the Queen's disobedient flaxen hair and was combing it into place. Alfred lifted a small pencil of black liner to outline his eyes; Ivan always did love their bright color so seeing them like this pleased him.

Alfred dressed quickly in simple attire bearing the proud kingdom's emblem once his hair was dry. He slipped on a pair of gloves and quickly looked over a few notes Ivan had left on exactly what he would need to prepare for the ball— he could not miss this one and he knew it.

A Nine knocked at the door, and Alfred allowed him entrance. "Your Majesty," he said, "the King has requested your presence in the War Room, unaccompanied. I will escort you." Alfred nodded and Kiku understood, going to busying himself with cleaning the bathroom floor.

» «

Alfred was sure to smooth his clothes down and fix his sash before approaching the entrance to the room. He knocked on the solid oak door. There was no sound from inside; he could only make out when the heavy lock on the door was undone and Berwald allowed him access. "Good day to all of you." Alfred took a moment to smile to all of them, surprised to see Arthur. "You needed me Vanya?" In such close company Alfred was unafraid to use such pet names; he could only dread the rumours that would come of such a slip at, oh, say that horrid ball, for instance.

Ivan, however, seemed in no mood for pleasantries or games. "I will name the subject quickly: do you remember Gilbert and Maria?" No last names were needed, Alfred's arm hair raised as he visibly tensed. Ivan continued. "Two persons have been spotted by the Knight of 10, wandering the Land of the Dead, and we have reason to believe it might be them. Now keep in mind we aren't sure…" In an act of consolation, Ivan tried on a ghost of a smile. "Now stop making that face, remember our talk on maturity?"

Alfred had not noticed how his face twisted to a scowl. "Yes, I'm sorry. But I thought Gilbert had been killed. Maria with a stranger would make more sense. Knight, how sure are you on their identities?" Alfred worked his face into what he hoped was a more pleasant expression and turned to Arthur. At least the source is reliable.

Arthur cleared his throat and began recounting the experience in more detail.  
"As all of you know, the Land of the Dead is the only neutral ground over all the world, but given such a name for its morbid purpose. It is a grand cemetery, but a cemetery nonetheless. When I was seeing off an honorable eight under my command, I saw two figures in the distance, watching. I have seen portraits of the two of them. I could recognise them immediately. On the hill stood a tall man with broad shoulders and a proud and fair face, flickering red eyes glinting under clipped and short white hair. The woman next to him was shorter, but with similar features and hair down to her waist, the same bleached white. They appeared fantastical for a moment, but I saw them move. The one I assume to be Maria spoke to the man with a smile, and they…" he sighed and shook his head.  
"They vanished before I could completely affirm their identities. —However, I find it hard to believe that it was anyone but them!" he exclaimed as his voice rose in heated remembrance, "From yards away I could see the stitched flesh of a scar on the man's neck! But he was alive! There must be witchcraft or foul play at work; the dead cannot be alive, and hundreds saw him die a dog's death!"

There was a moment of silence as Berwald gestured to quiet Arthur, who was heavily panting from his outburst. The Knight bowed low, the tips of his ears glowing in shame. "Excuse me. I apologise for my forward candor. It was not only quite a fright at the time, but the very thought still harrows me."

"Excused. Have a seat." Berwald had said quickly to him, passing a goblet with a bit of liquor inside. Roderich gave the towering blond a glare, but Berwald disregarded it, keeping a hand on Arthur's shoulder.

The Jack then spoke up, after lightly clearing his throat. "We could have his Highness go into the cities by the border to the lands to see if anyone else has seen them."

Roderich raised one neatly trimmed eyebrow. "I am not comfortable with our Queen going to such… filthy and decrepit places as the border regions. I mean no offense; I am sure that His Majesty can hold his own. But in a lowly place full of intoxicated— and likely criminal! —men, it is not secure to send him. If it is necessary for him to go, at the very least, send an armed guard." The Ace had always been opposed with the Queen dressing down to slink among the poor, and though there was merit to his worries, the sovereign often disapproved openly.

"People will have reason to be suspicious if we send guards. I take care of myself. If you are so worried have some guards near the bar but in hiding." Alfred replied with a slight whine in his tone.

"Lapushka will be in the area anyways. It would make sense for him to be keeping an ear to the ground." the King added. Ivan then produced the envelope he had been fiddling with over the course of the conversation. "A friend of yours has requested a visit. And I am not opposed to you going, so long as you want to."

Alfred stepped forwards to take the small envelope handed to him; the cobalt seal was broken but he recognized it immediately. He tore the paper out and unfolded it, Ace softly tittering at the monarchs' mutual recklessness. He read over every word frantically, reviewing it no less than three times. The words made his heart race and his hands tremble. "Of course I do!" he cried enthusiastically as he finished, lifting his own azure eyes. Ivan let the faint twitch of his lips prevail. Alfred was so blatantly obvious in his affections; it was endearing, he thought.

"If there is any need for my assistance," Arthur finally said after his long silence, "I will be glad to accompany the Queen. —But there is something you should know, Your Majesty, that I neglected to mention in my earlier account. After they left, I found something on the ground— something that further confirms my theory." Arthur dug around in a small bag attached to his belt, removing two bird feathers and a small patch of cloth with an elaborately embroidered crest, and presented them to the King. "From the records, I have read that those two kept eagles, which certainly produced these pitch feathers. And this crest… It is certainly theirs. I have no doubt that it was those two exiles. My King, I am fraught with worry. Those two, loose, not aged a day since their supposed deaths— it bodes badly for the world. I refuse to hide this cravenness— all these evil things, I do not wish to see them again."

Ivan took the section of cloth in his hands, letting it lie in his open palm as he dragged a thick and knobby finger over the stitched sign. "Your evidence is striking. But you do know that if you wish to accompany the Queen you have to face them again, or at least be willing to Knight. I cannot have you get like this and do something rash to put the Queen's life in jeopardy."

"I am more than willing to fulfill my duty and would rather die than see the Queen harmed. Your Highness, I will face them with undaunted mettle and sharpened steel if need be." Arthur replied confidently.

Alfred slipped the letter into his breast pocket. He tried to suppress his smile during this serious talk to look more professional. "And if it is them? If this is no trick, what can we do against them? They have already been exiled and now live on neutral ground."

"If they come out of there it would be the safest. Invading the neutral right of the Land of the Dead would make both of our lovelyreligious kingdoms of Diamonds and Hearts go ballistic." Berwald had mumbled, head resting over two gloved and folded hands.

"If no other kingdom has noticed their survival we can take them secretly and never have to even give a reason. All the other kingdoms believe them to be deceased." Roderich reasoned as he ran a hand through his thin hair.

That seemed like the best option; Ivan knew that even though the other kingdoms did not care about the previous Jacks they will be willing to feign care to spite him and make his job more difficult. What they never found out could not be used against him. Then again, he, the King, and the rest of this counsel could spend years discussing the matter but the best thing to do would be to get more details. —Furthermore, however, the Knight was an issue. He trusted his Knight, but even good men made mistakes. This was risky on all grounds…

Even so, he eventually capitulated. "That sounds good. Knight, get a small detachment of Nines. You will be Lapushka's escort. You will go out along the borders to the Land of the Dead and see if anyone has seen anything or knows anything. Then take the Queen to see the Jack of Spades; he will explain. —Knight, you are dismissed. So are you, my Queen, unless you'd like to hear Ace inform me on the political situation between our poor and the merchant class."

"How about you give me the shortened version?" Alfred responded with an apologetic smile, he hated listening to Roderich ramble.

"Bad."

"That's a shame. Understood." Alfred did a showy bow, dipping low before nearly spinning around on one foot and walking out, with Arthur already ahead and holding the door open for him. Arthur waited until the door was shut behind them before grinning at Alfred and stepping by his side. "Well done, Your Majesty. That was handled very well. If you would still like to watch me practice, you will know where to find me."

"Thank you Arthur, it was lucky you had seen them and were smart enough to bring it up." The Knight walked the Queen to the Queen's grand chambers, then halting just as they got there.

"Your Majesty, should it not be too bold to ask…" Arthur said, "Why are you meeting with the Jack of Spades? What sort of things is he planning? I cannot allow you to meet with him should it put you in danger of any sort. That sort of ambitious man— I fear for you."

Arthur was suspicious. Rightly so, after all, the man in question was possibly the strongest and most cunning member of the enemy's military. He had no doubt that Alfred's motives were for good, but who knew of the other's? The very possibility that Alfred could be threatened made the hairs on the back of Arthur's neck rise.

"In short, Ivan has allowed me to mail the Jack of Spades as a diplomatic thing, fostering relations. He looks over all the letters and all to be sure they are safe." His tone betrayed his simplification— where his words were passive, his voice was infatuated. But he cut himself short before he would ramble and get ahead of himself. "I will see you soon, Arthur. At the practice range. I must change first." the monarch said, excusing himself and rushing into his room.

As soon as the door shut, Arthur turned on his heel to go down towards the training field. Regardless of if Alfred came or not— he hoped Alfred would —he would practice. He ran to his spartan chambers and changed his clothes quickly, not wanting to get these finer ones ruined. With that he went out and fixed his targets, considering with a heavy heart the mission set before him.


	4. Act I, Scene iii

Being trained to wake up so early anyways, Arthur had no trouble getting together his few possessions, loading the cart, and downing a mug of tea along with a piece of bread with jam in time to see to the knights and make sure all was in order. Before he left, he went to Berwald to share a few words. 

“Sir, I won't kill them if I see them.” he said to his superior after exchanging a few pleasantries.  
With a rare and small smile, Berwald ruffled the shorter's hair. “Do not worry. Follow your orders rather than trying to appease me. It's useless anyway.”

Arthur shrugged and a quick hug to him, the only paternal figure Arthur could really remember. He had joined the army at eighteen, inspired four years earlier by the man he now travelled with. Now at the age of 26, he had risen through the ranks with efficiency and now was close to what he had fallen for on that day 12 years prior. But war had taken the innocence of youth from him, except for in these brief moments with the Jack. Stuck in this nostalgia, Arthur had not noticed his faint frown. Berwald put a hand on the young man’s shoulder with a certain calloused gentleness. “Do not worry. Have faith in your skills and all will be well, Arthur.” Berwald said cooly, Arthur then pulling away with a murmur of gratitude.

Arthur then ran off to the carriages, saluting the king as he went.

The Knight of Ten had decided to drive the cart of his monarch. He wore common clothes, simple and rough, under dark armour covered by a tattered cloak. He waved to Alfred and waited until all was set to begin driving the cart. They left with a whiney from the horses.

As usual Roderich had every last detail meticulously planned, though he did not agree with the plan he would make it go as smoothly as possible. He had the carriage taking them look ratty on the outside, nothing special or unique to denote wealth. But the inside was as decadent as the palace.

At least his cart was. There were two other carts but they were as plain as they looked and served for the small unit of knights with them. As long as they were in public they wore armor without insignia. Under cover to not attract attention as they guided one of the most important people in the kingdom.

He could kiss Roderich if he had seen him right then, in the cart was a bed, perfectly made and the sheets were pulled back to appear warm and inviting. His Middle was helping lift a box into the back of another cart as Alfred stripped his shirt and shoes to burrow under the mass of sheets.

He even had the bed warmed. All except the pillow which was blissfully cool against his cheek.

It would be around 6 hours until they reached their destination. The ride was mostly very smooth, letting Alfred slumber and bury himself deep under the thin layers of sheets as the others guided their caravans to the border. Alfred did recall one of the back wheels falling into a rut and himself being snapped awake but he quickly fell back asleep in moments.

By the time they were there he was fully rested but just lying with his eyes closed. His eyes flicked open as he turned his head up to look to Arthur when he had announced their arrival and suggested that Alfred help with moving the luggage. Alfred sat up, his chest bare as he reached for his tan shirt to slip it over his head.

Kiku had crept into the cart with him over the course of the trip and stood up to the taller male, flattening his hair and fixing his clothes. “Remember my Queen, use a commoner's accent. If anyone asks you are the son of a tailor at the east end of the kingdom and you are here along the main trade route.” His voice was soft and nearly lost among the chatter outside.

“Knight, what time is it?” Alfred called to Arthur. “I feel like I slept for an eternity; the ride was nice and smooth.” A dopey smile was on his face, it was almost like he slept at home.

“Your majesty, it is about 12:30 post meridian. I'm glad that it was alright, and most thankful we didn't run into trouble.”

When they reached the room, Alfred opened his bag and pulled out some of his belongings, placing his lotion on the nightstand and pulling out a small frame with a miniature painting. It was of Ivan and Alfred standing in full formal garb, arm in arm in front of the castle. It was painted when Alfred first became Queen. He was only 14 at the time, the unfortunate end of Elisabetha forcing him in the position over his brother. Oh, poor Matthew. Alfred hadn't seen his brother, since he was pulled away to be crowned. He had asked Ivan many times where he was but Ivan refused to say, not wanting him to go off on some wild chase around the kingdom to try and win back Matthew's affections.

Arthur interrupted Alfred’s nostalgic bout, shaking him back to the present. “Sir,” he said, “how should I address you when you are undercover? I do not wish to lose formality. Also, we should go to the Land of the Dead near sundown. I expect we may see the two traitors then.”

“You can call me Alfred. No titles.” He couldn't remember a time where Arthur had let them be more informal, even in private. Kiku stepped in to take Al's bag and organize the rest of his belongings. “Sundown sounds nice, we can watch it while we wait, I heard the sun makes the Land of the Dead look almost unreal. And the moonlight even more so.” Alfred leaned against the wall near Arthur, liking the chance to see Arthur in something other than the same armor every day. “What shall we do until then? We should probably get some lunch, right?”

“I think that sounds nice your— Alfred. We shall do so. Yes, I think a meal would do us well. What would you like? The inn has some nice common food. Perhaps a meat pie or some steak of some sort?” He attempted to relax his voice and take out his normal nervous tension.

“I haven't had a normal meat pie in months… that sounds delicious!” As if planned his stomach grumbled just then. It growled loud enough that it surprised both Alfred and Arthur into silence. After a few moments, he chuckled into his palm and Arthur could not help but chortle.

“I'll go and get you one then, Alfred.” he replied with another small laugh. Arthur felt his chest fluttering just a bit. It felt oddly liberating to shake off even just that much formality. It was strangely happy... He could feel his hands shake a bit with excitement.

“Also, you could see if that diplomatic friend of yours from Spades is about. I doubt he would be here, but who knows. I'm still nervous about this though, sir.”

He did fix his belt around his soft waist to allow himself to hide the twitch in his hands from the mention of Yao. “You really think he might be in the kingdom? What if we see him! I look so… poor.” Normally he didn't mind but what if he thought less of him without the added glamor of silks and makeup? His face fell as he realized he really did look like a peasant. As paleness was associated with royalty and he was far from, only made worse when he was with Ivan who looked the part to be king. Alfred looked over his skin and hands.

“He might be… Although I doubt it. We are along the border though, and this area is technically neutral.” Arthur said as he went towards the door, leaving his cloak folded on the floor next to his armour. He still kept a sword on him; one can never be too careful. “And he shouldn't care. Everyone knows of the Queen's duties. As a Jack, he will not judge you, I'm sure of it.” he reassured, opening the door and holding it for Alfred.

“Shall we go downstairs? Don't make that face, sir. If you feel badly about looking common, you will simply have to say that you are doing your duty.” He gave a nod and a kind smile. “Come along now, you're hungry.”

Alfred took a calming breath before he smiled up to Arthur. “I wonder how good the food is here. You think it'll be better than the stuff the cooks make in the bars in the capital?” The noble walked through the open door, looking back to make sure Arthur stood close to his side. After a few moments of nothing but silence Alfred began to ramble, mulling over memories.

“I remember this one place in the southernmost part of the city. It was run by this adorable couple who had their 7 year old daughter bring me my food and she was so adorable… a little blond child with green eyes. She reminded me of you. She was so devoted to making sure my meal was just perfect.”

She had watched it being made to assure it was fresh and would be cooked properly. She had cleaned the plate with “extra elbow grease to make it shine,” as she had said. It was like the first time he had met Arthur, after the man had joined the military he had made his desires and goals very clear.

He remembered watching all of the soldiers train and Arthur trained the longest and hardest of them all. On the day when King Braginsky and himself were presented with the candidates for the Knight of Ten the decision was simple. Before they all finished filling in Alfred pointed right to Arthur. “I choose Sir Kirkland. He is far more devoted than any man here.” The reddening of Arthur's cheeks at that time was immediate and Ivan tried to convince Alfred to at least think about it a bit more but Alfred was stubborn. "No, it’s him." Eventually it was decided and Arthur was made the Knight of Ten.

“She reminded you of me? By being a perfectionist? Sounds correct, sir.” he grinned. “Or was it appearance? Green eyes are uncommon. I actually saw a lord the other day who reminded me of you... His hair was a bit longer and more curly, however.” Arthur could not help but to laugh. It did sound like him when he was smaller. “Awfully polite child, eh? It's good to know that this is a kingdom in which such good children can reside.” he replied. “No doubt better than one of those blasted Spades!”

It had been about a week ago. Arthur had needed lodgings, and went to a desert town, close to the capital mind you, underneath the ground. He had met someone with the same crystalline blue eyes and blonde hair. He could have sworn he was nearly identical to the Queen. He espied him for a moment and waved... but then the man was gone.

It was curious. He couldn't imagine a person so unlike— and yet so unnaturally like— the queen. It had been on his mind for quite a while. He decided not to bring it up though... Perhaps it just never appeared in conversation. Well, no matter.

“Aye! Wench, another ale over here!” called a raucous middle aged fellow at the bar. There with his loud companions and a few emaciated strangers, the tavern was a spectacle for only the most depraved eyes’ enjoyment. Lewd drunkenness was king here, but Arthur was confident, and led Alfred through the chaos, unperturbed.

Alfred did not realize when they entered the main room and shook his head slightly, not sure how he got to remembering that but quickly finding himself a booth on the outer corner of the room. “Doubtful. The capital is the centre, after all, sir.” Arthur had replied quietly before stepping close to Alfred's side, matching his step in time.

“You mind ordering for me?”

Arthur had kept a stoic look until Alfred began speaking again. He then listened with a kindness in his eyes and a happier skip in his step. Alfred was reminded of him. Even such a small thing made his heart jump a bit faster.

He followed Alfred to the booth before nodding and giving a fake salute. "Yes sir. Potatoes? Meat? What would you like? I've stayed here plenty of times. They know me well."

The waitress was a well-built lady, with broad shoulders and a stout body. Her cheeks were ruddy in health and she was holding two pints of the finest ale they had, much the consistency of fizzing dishwater. “Aye there buddy.” Her large hand pat Arthur's shoulder a bit roughly. “Good ta see you again.”

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Arthur swerved to find himself eye to eye with the stocky serving wench, hand on the pommel of his sword. He never liked being caught off guard. He slowly relaxed his muscles and straightened, sighing and laughing a bit. "Oh, well… Hello there Miss Karen. We meet again.

This the kid you're guarding? I bet he's a tailor. He looks soft like one.” She gave a jubilant laugh and Alfred nodded, his arms wrapping around his middle to hide his slight pudge.

“Ah— Yes, this is Alfred. Alfred, Karen. He's from the east. A mercenary has to make a living somehow, you know, and soft ones like him certainly need the most help. Make nice, he's fragile." he rambled, giving Alfred a joking wink at the end.

She reached over and touched cheeks with Alfred once, kissing the air. “Such a sweet one, good he had you ta keep him safe. Now what kinda pie do you guys want?”

“I'll take potato. Trying to work on the softness.” He gave a weak laugh, the women's aggressive energy putting him off. He felt guilty for wishing she would leave but the interruption kept the answer of his brother away from him.

Arthur never really liked this woman all that much, and so decided to take over the conversation. “Alfred, if you're working on it, then no potatoes. Hah!—Well actually, I think we have worked enough to allow you to eat it perhaps. Potatoes it is. —And miss?” Giving her a small glare over a sweet smile, Arthur quickly added, “Come and ask for an order when the customers are not conversing.” She seemed quite ruffled by this, but with a huff, turned and left. Arthur turned back to Alfred with a small apologetic look. “Excuse me, sir.” he said with a sigh, “That's the only way to get them to bugger off sometimes.”

When the waitress left, Alfred’s features froze, his face going blank for a moment. "Arthur, where did you see him, this look-alike? This is very important. Did he look like he was traveling a long distance?" The royal's voice was low and had a panicked edge. It was no secret Alfred had a brother, all the kingdom did watch them grow, but no one knew exactly where he was.

"You have to tell me." He leaned into his ear and cupped his hands to prevent anyone from reading his lips, just in case. "It could have been Mattie." Alfred pulled back slightly looking almost desperate, though still seated near his companion. "Ivan won't let me see him. I miss him."

Arthur felt a bit of pressure as he felt the tone of conversation change. He had heard of Matthew only a few times before. His region never cared much for politics when he was growing up, and the scraps of information he did find had barely anything but a picture.

Yet Arthur responded quickly and automatically, whispering in Alfred's ear. “Fife. About one day's ride from the capital.” he then shook his head and switched his tone a bit, “Hi— bugger. Alfred, I am yet unsure of his identity. He appeared as if he resided there. He had a horse with no pack on it. Alfred, I said nothing.”

"Okay. I'll look into it later. Just don't bring this up to the King unless he asks first." He wouldn't ask him to lie to the king, the punishment would be greater than if he found out Alfred was looking for Matthew. "Just he looks exactly like me, it has to be him. We switched roles all the time when we were kids. I'd go to his arms training and he took my etiquette classes. No one could ever tell but our mother..." But he refused to be brought down by that. And with a shake of his head he cleared his mother from his mind. The waitress returned swiftly. The food was already made, and she did not say a word as she placed the food and utensils on the table and left.

Arthur looked back to Alfred with some reproach. He nodded his head and took a sip of the watery ale. Disgusting. Just how he was used to. At least he couldn't smell it. “I won't say a single word to the King. This is business between you and I only. If it truly is him... You have all the support I can give behind you.” He cringed a bit at the mention of their mother. It was strange to think that today they might see those vile undead from when she was alive. How morbid.

Alfred picked at his food, one arm still around his midsection. He sipped at the ale, his nose scrunching at the vile taste. "How can anyone drink this?"

Arthur only shrugged when asked about the ale (if one could call it that) and chided him a bit with a smirk, “Take your hand off of your stomach. Come off it. You aren't fat and have plenty of muscle.” Arthur ate rather quickly. He always did, despite never really being famished or hungry. His house was always rather competitive at mealtime, and his brothers often would steal his food unless he finished quickly. His mind mulled over the thoughts of his family. As far as he knew, none of his family members had joined the army with him. If he remembered correctly, a few defected to Diamonds and became part of the Church. He would have to bring everyone together again at some point.

Alfred did as he was told, bringing the arm over his stomach up onto the table as he ate slowly. “Whatever you say, having pudge is better than being all lanky like you. That just means I'm warmer in the winter.” He weakly joked, more concerned with the pie in front of him as he found it much easier to keep down than the poison they called ale. Alfred tried keeping up with Arthur's eating, waging a silent contest in his head as to who could finish first. He lost, luckily not having to voice it. He just chose to pretend he never made it a race and listened intently to Arthur. "Did you bring any books? I didn't have Kiku pack me any."

“We do have a few hours until sundown. Hm…” Arthur hummed to himself in thought. Arthur politely set down his utensils and wiped his mouth with an embroidered handkerchief he had with him. "I brought poetry books with me, and I could read you some if you like." he replied with another swig of puddle-water ale.

The large lady came back and wordlessly took their dishes, not so much as looking at Arthur. The Queen did notice her eyes flick to himself though, there was something in her expression. As if she wanted to speak but she couldn't. The younger boy stared after her as she flitted back behind the bar as they walked over to go pay the tab. Arthur had also kept his eyes trained on the woman when she came, and kept close by Alfred. He was suspicious of this place already, but suddenly it felt as if dozens of eyes were trained on him. He did his best to ignore his hunch of insecurity.

“Hey Arthur? Who's that?” Alfred then interjected as he pointed plainly at a hooded form towards the front of the shop. They seemed very intent on hiding their face from everyone as they drank. The stranger’s figure was painfully thin, their fingers pale and bony. When Alfred pointed the person seemed to relax— they even waved. “Arthur, see who they are. They're creeping me out.”

Arthur turned to where Alfred was pointing, pushing down Alfred’s hand. "Stay here." he said, pulling on his collar as a signal to the guard scattered around the room. He got up and walked over to the hooded figure, his lips pressed in a tight line. Backing them up to the dark corner, Arthur flipped the hood over with scarcely a thought. His face did not show the surprise he felt and would later kick himself for.

“His highness wished to speak with me, alone.” Yao's voice was kept quiet, but the bell-like quality seemed to float over the other bits of conversation that were audible. “I come in peace”"

“For peace, you carry an awful amount of weapons.” Arthur whispered back with a snort. “Put down the sword and whatever assorted weaponry you have on you, and leave it in the corner where I can see it. I cannot allow harm to come to the Queen.”

Grudgingly Yao did so, putting his hood back on. Arthur walked back to Alfred, and with some disdain, he said, “It's that prodigious Jack of Spades. He says he would like to speak with you. My Lord, is it really worthwhile and all right to be trusting him?”

“Nonsense Arthur, he won't hurt me. I know he won't. If you worry so much you can guard the hall outside my room. Yao and I will need the peace and quiet as we catch up.” But he only looked at the shorter man as he spoke, reaching out a hand for him as they made it up the stairs. The simple touch made his skin tingle, his fingers closing over the thin hand as they made it to his small room. “It's not really fancy but it'll do.” Alfred whispered, “We can't risk having you to deep in the kingdom with the war and all.”

Arthur was told to wait outside, the door was closed but the walls were thin enough that if either spoke loudly they could be heard. They had never been this alone. Not for years, so Alfred could not help but wrap his arms around Yao's waist and place demanding kisses on his lips and jaw. He was careful to not leave a mark.

"I've missed you so much sweetheart." whispered the Queen of Clubs.


End file.
